


Rockslides and 'TLC'

by troiing



Series: Aftermaths [2]
Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 09:12:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troiing/pseuds/troiing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little piece of fluff to accompany the headcanon established in "Aftermath."</p><p>"Helen had thought she knew these tunnels like the back of her hand by now, but she supposes that trusting the earth to remain the same is silly indeed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rockslides and 'TLC'

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, a piece for Dax. Gawd, Dax, get out of my life, this fluffy stuff is rotting my teeth.

"Alright. It's fine, Nikola. I'm fine."

"You're sure?"

"Better if you hadn't leaped on top of me, in fact. Get  _off_."

He's obedient, but no less argumentative than ever. "Hey. I was just trying to protect you from the falling rocks. If you'd rather be crushed next time, I'd be happy to oblige."

She pointedly ignores him, because she's  _obviously_  launched herself to safety without his help, thanks very much. "We need to get back to the Sanctuary. I'll send someone to clean this up and make sure nothing like it happens again. Minor or not, we don't need any more rock slides injuring people."

But she's wincing when she stands, and he notices. "Hurt yourself, did you?"

"Stings a bit where you pushed my face into the ground, yes," she obfuscates, trying not to favor her injured ankle, but doing a poor job of it.

"Like I said. If you want to be crushed next time" —a grunt, hefting her suddenly into his arms— "I'd be happy to—"

"Put me down, Nikola!"

"Oh, I don't think so."

"I'm perfectly capable of—"

" _Behave_ , or you might just get too heavy for me to carry. You don't want me to drop you, do you?"

"If you can't carry me, what's that vampire strength of yours good for?" she challenges, playing to his ego, but his ego's not easy to put down.

"I didn't say I wouldn't be  _able_  to carry you, Helen. It's just that all this heavy lifting is such tiring work, and I did just save you from a rock fall… And morale is so very low with you scolding me when all I tried to do is help."

She sighs, but knots her arms around his neck for stability, because his hold on her indicates he's not letting go any time soon.

"What do you say?" he asks after a pause.

She eyes him shrewdly, feeling no less argumentative. "That depends. What do you want me to say?"

A  _tsk_  greets her, and when he suddenly loosens his hold as if to drop her, her arms tighten reflexively around his neck. He chuckles at her reaction to the feint. "Settled in quite well, haven't you? Someone's forgotten her manners."

She snorts caustically at him, relaxing her hold and glancing away in annoyance. "At least I have them."

"Ah. Catty today."

"You're not exactly helping."

"Said the woman with the sprained ankle to the man so  _valiantly_  carrying her home!"

"It's not sprained," she insists with a scowl. "I've only turned it a bit."

"I'm sure."

He sets her down on an examination table a while later, and she immediately pulls her foot away from him. He's quick though, and he drags her back by the calf.

 _"Ow._  Nikola! I'm perfectly capable of tending to this myself." The half-hour walk back to the Sanctuary hasn't quelled their bickering.

"Be quiet, Helen," he snaps back as he unlaces her boot with one hand, working it and the sock off while she gazes balefully at him, perched upright with her lips pursed against pain she's far too proud to show. "Not sprained, hmm?" he declares pointedly as they both survey the swelling.

She pins him with a glare. "Says the man who wanted to wrap my broken ribs."

"Aren't we all entitled to mistakes, Helen?"

"Not if our egos are as big as yours."

"And what does that mean when  _you_  make one?" he chides in an almost sing-song tone, releasing Helen's leg and offering her a toothy grin.

She cuts her eyes at him, disgust tracing across her features. "You're impossible."

"So are you, as it were. Now—it's ice for twenty, rest for twenty, isn't it? Oh… no, that's wrong, sorry. It's 'don't do anything, and let Helen walk a few kilometers on it.' That's why you're the doctor and I'm the inventor, I suppose. Shall I help you to the treadmill?"

"Shut  _up_ , Nikola," she finally commands, pinning him with that  _look_  of hers—impatient, with a respectable amount of annoyance hosted in the twinge at the corner of her mouth. He can't help but chuckle at her.

"I'll get the ice," he says, never abandoning his grin.


End file.
